


We're Scared to Bruise

by wilfredthepickle



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Catatonia, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilfredthepickle/pseuds/wilfredthepickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly harrowing experience on a case, Reid makes the decision to leave the BAU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Scared to Bruise

_-5 minutes_

It's been a long three weeks, but the BAU have finally found their unsub. Martin Hargreaves, thirty-nine years old, has an affinity for raping and then messily murdering young children. It's a case that hits hard for the majority of the BAU, and none of them can be more eager to finally catch the bastard.

The problem is, Hargreaves has just taken up residence in an abandoned hotel with over twenty child hostages, and the BAU have _no_ goddamned clue what one of the hundreds of rooms he's in.

They've agreed to split into pairs and each take different corridors of each floor - JJ and Hotch are paired together, Morgan and Rossi are partners, and Reid and the detective of the week are the third couple. The detective of the week is pushy and wants Reid, a trained FBI agent, to follow all of his orders without question. Reid is considering just giving the man what he wants, when he hears what he thinks is the sound of muffled crying.

The detective continues forward, oblivious to the sound. Frowning, Reid goes down the corridor where he thought he heard the noise, soon moving out of sight from the detective. He hears the sound again, sounding much closer than the last time. Pressing his ear up close against a door, he hears it again much clearer, this time accompanied by a harsh, smacking kind of sound.

He hears a gunshot.

Reid busts the door open and barges in with his gun, his foot immediately landing in something red and sticky.

o o o

_0 minutes_

All hell breaks loose when the rest of the BAU hears the two shots. The first five seconds are a mixture of panic, fear, anger and confusion for each member, protocol going flying out the window as they desperately try to figure out which member of their team is potentially in danger. Morgan and Rossi quickly check the rest of their hallway before running to the sound of the shots, while JJ is momentarily stunned into inaction as Hotch quickly checks there's nobody in the closet, before grabbing her by the arm and pulling them both towards the source of the sound. Outside, Garcia hears the two shots and lets out a cry, running towards the building where her best friends are stationed inside.

They meet up in the middle, the detective that was paired with Reid for the raid looking flushed and panicked. "I turned around and he was gone," he explains breathlessly, eyes glancing rapidly at each agent to gauge their reactions.

"No time. Split up," Hotch commands, setting off at a light run down a corridor. JJ and Rossi take the corridor opposite to his, leaving Morgan and the detective to take the corridor where the detective had come from. At the corner, the detective goes left and Morgan turns right, kicking in every door and checking the rooms as quickly as he can. He's almost finished with this particular hallway when he hears the soft groan of a door opening behind him. Morgan whips around and sees Reid step out of the door and close it quickly behind him, his nose dripping blood down his lips and chin. The younger agent's face looks worryingly blank, his eyes empty, his face paler than Morgan has ever seen him.

"Reid!" he shouts, grabbing the man by the shoulders and shaking him. Reid doesn't react, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "Reid. _Spencer!_ It's Morgan. Talk to me, kid. Talk to me."

Reid looks up at him dazedly, eyes still unfocused. "He's dead," he says softly, still not quite coherent enough for Morgan's liking.

"Who, Reid? Spencer?" Morgan pushes him, hoping that the use of Reid's first name will bring the younger man back to full consciousness.

"Martin Hargreaves. The unsub. I shot him," Reid says, rubbing absently at his nose. He stares at the smear of blood left on his hands blankly, still with the same dazed, dreamy look. A team of cops finally comes, running in from behind them.

"You don't want to go in there," Reid says suddenly, looking at Morgan with such intensity and urgency in his eyes that Morgan is almost intimidated by him.

"Why not, kid?" Morgan says as gently as possible, trying to shake the younger man's grip on him. Somehow, he can't - Reid seems to have suddenly acquired the strength of ten men, holding onto Morgan's arms like a vice. "Spencer, I have to check the scene. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

"No!" Reid cries out, gripping even harder. Morgan winces at the feeling of fingernails digging harshly into his skin and hopes that Reid doesn't tear the skin. "Don't go in. Stay. Please."

Morgan is about to deny his friend yet again when a cop taps him on the shoulder from behind. "I can check it for you," he offers, biting his lip. "And then I can report to your boss…Agent Hotchner, right?"

Morgan nods. "Thank you," he says, suddenly realizing that he can no longer feel Reid's grip on his arms. "Reid?" he calls out as he turns around, frowning in puzzlement.

He has just enough time to see Reid finish throwing up further down the corridor.

o o o

_32 minutes_

Morgan watches as Reid flinches while the EMT pokes harshly at his nose. It's the only sign of him registering any physical sensation since he threw up, Morgan notes. Reid had barely reacted at the touch of Morgan's hands on his shoulders as the older agent had led him to the paramedics waiting outside.

"Well," the EMT sighs as he stands up straight. "That's definitely a broken nose. I can't do it here, but we can take you in the ambulance to an after-hours clinic where they can set it properly. Is that okay, sir?" He waits for a response from Reid, looking somewhat frightened when Reid doesn't answer back. "Sir?"

"It's fine," Morgan answers for him, the EMT looking toward him in surprise.

"When did this... _catatonia_ set in?" the EMT asks him carefully, taking out a light and shining it into Reid's eyes. The younger agent blinks and shies away from the light, but says nothing and continues staring aimlessly at the ground.

"Immediately after he came out of the room," Morgan answers. "Do you have any idea when he'll snap out of it?"

The EMT sighs and turns off the light. "It's hard to say," he begins. "He's responding to light and pain, which are good signs. Right now, I would estimate that he'll be fully back to himself in around about twenty-four hours or so. But that's just an estimate - don't leave him alone until he's responding fully to stimuli. And then don't leave him alone for a few more hours after that."

"What do we do about his nose?" Morgan asks, placing a hand reassuringly on Reid's shoulder, despite that the younger agent probably can't feel it.

"Splint it, ice it, don't aggravate it. It's a clean break - looks painful and certainly is painful, but it's nothing too big to worry about unless he hurts it badly again." The EMT hesitates. "I think it would be a good idea if you'd accompany us to the clinic," he says cautiously, "given Dr. Reid's mental state right now."

"Trust me, I'm not letting that kid out of my sight until he's back to normal," Morgan smiles thinly. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem. I'm ready to go whenever you are," the EMT replies, giving him a nod and beginning to pack away his first aid kit.

Morgan sighs and pulls Reid upwards by his shoulder. "Come on, kid," he mutters, seeing Hotch beckoning towards them. "Time to go see bossman."

Hotch faces Morgan with a stern expression. "How's Reid?" the older agent asks immediately, lifting Reid's chin and brushing off a fine line of dried blood that the EMT didn't quite catch.

"We're heading to an after-hours clinic now," Morgan answers. "As long as we stay with him, he should come right in a day or two."

"Is that _your_ assessment, or the EMT's?" Hotch asks.

"His," Morgan admits. "Look, you got that report from that younger cop. What was in that room? What was so bad that Reid just…retreated like this?"

Hotch looks away for a brief instant. "Did Reid tell you not to go in there?"

Morgan frowns. "Sorry, what?"

"Did he?"

"I don't…yeah, he did," Morgan finally admits. "Come on, Hotch. I've seen some pretty bad things in my lifetime, I can handle it."

"It's not about you not being able to handle it," Hotch replies. "It's about respecting Reid's wishes and not telling you what was going on in that room."

Morgan tries to argue, but catches sight of the early beginnings of Hotch's famous death glares, so quickly falls silent. He sighs, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "Okay. I get it. Next topic. Will Reid need a psych evaluation?"

"Of course," Hotch nods. "Standard procedure, Morgan."

"I know, I know," Morgan sighs. "It's just…well, I just don't think Reid will like the idea that much. Being forced to bring up the memories again might do more harm than good."

"You may be right." Hotch nods his head thoughtfully. "But I can't just waive our protocol entirely."

"You wouldn't have to," Morgan argues. "Just do it yourself, have a nice conversation with him, see how he's doing, and put that in the report. We both know that he'll just run rings around a therapist, Hotch."

Hotch hesitates, tapping his finger against his forearm as he frowns. "I'll see what I can do," he finally says, examining Reid once again. "Get him into that clinic as soon as you can."

Morgan smiles. "Yes sir," he says, taking Reid once more by the shoulders and pulling him towards the ambulance. "Come on, kid. Let's go and fix that pretty face of yours."

o o o

five days

_spencer can feel every touch of tobias hankel's fingers in the crook of his elbows, every droplet of blood from the people he's killed, every ghost of everyone who's ever left him pressuring him to simply give in, to let go of his desires for the future and simply exist in one moment, not caring about past or present._

_elle, with her no-nonsense and down-to-earth manner, a constant reminder that even the strongest of people can succumb to their demons._

_jordan, whose charm and giving nature hadn't been enough to let her continue her work in the bau._

_seaver, who reminded spencer of himself - forced to grow into an adult much too quickly, the pressures of problems at home slowly eating at his soul._

_emily, who taught him to always be wary of what you have, in case it is ever snatched away from you._

_alex, whose courage she displayed when she felt the need to walk away still inspires him._

_sometimes, he even finds himself wondering how gideon is doing._

_he tries to keep them out of his mind, but sometimes, he questions what his life would be like if he were away from the horrors of the job. in some ways, he envies them. they get a life away from the insanity, and his will always be a part of him._

o o o

_two months_

They're on the jet after a rather simple case, and Morgan finds himself watching Reid. The older agent has taken it upon himself to watch out for the younger man slipping back into a state of disassociation, though Reid hasn't had one in more than a month. In some ways Morgan finds it comforting, having a valid reason to take care of someone that he's so scared of losing.

Reid notices Morgan staring at him and raises his eyebrows, the bruises around his nose and eyes not quite faded. What? He mouths at him from the other side of the jet, frowning. He pats the seat next to him subtly, aware of Hotch eyeing the two from his corner. Morgan takes it as an invitation and crosses the plane to sit next to Reid, the younger man shuffling over slightly to make room for him.

"Okay, enough is enough. Why are you staring at me?" Reid says, a little more harshly than Morgan had expected. The older agent blinks.

"I've always stared at you," he replies, knowing too well it's a flimsy excuse that Reid will see through.

He does. 'I'm sure," he says, rolling his eyes. "You know, I haven't been feeling detached or distanced in a while," he says, lowering his voice. "You don't have to keep making sure I'm not feeling a little out of it, Derek."

"You think full-on catatonia is just _feeling a little out of it?"_ Morgan asks pointedly.

"No, I'm saying that I don't get those sporadic bursts of catatonia anymore, if any kind of detached feelings at all," Reid explains.

Morgan sighs, shifting his weight. "You've never told me what was in the room, you know."

"And I don't plan to," Reid says curtly.

"Not even Hotch?"

"Hotch knows. We talked. Briefly." Morgan notes that Reid's language has become stilted, mechanical. No matter how many times Reid says he's over it, it's very apparent that the younger agent still hasn't processed what happened. And until he talks about it, nobody can help him overcome it, Morgan realises.

"You know, I'm _always_ here and ready to listen, if you ever need it," Morgan offers gently.

Reid smiles bitterly, his lips pulling up at the corners that seemed so just un-Reidlike that it almost scares Morgan. "You don't know what I saw in there," he says, still wearing that thin smile.

Morgan doesn't quite know what to say to that. He doesn't think that he ever will, either.

o o o

_six months_

Hotch isn't particularly surprised to see Reid waiting for him in his office when he arrives at the BAU the next morning. The younger man looks tired and is picking at his nails absently, eyes focused solely on the ground.

"Hotch," Reid says as soon as he sees Hotch enter the room. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Hotch looked at the clock. "For how long?" he asks. "I have a meeting-"

"-Not long," Reid interrupts him. "Just a few minutes." There's a tense silence for a few seconds. "Please?"

Hotch nods hesitantly. "Okay. Let me get settled first." There's an awkward minute of silence apart from the clicking of Hotch's briefcase and the rustling of his papers. Hotch's chair lets out an awkward squeak as he sits down heavily on it, before he shakes out the tension in his wrists and tunes back in to Reid. "Okay. What would you like to talk about?"

Reid inhales deeply. "Hotch, h-has my…has my job performance been s-suffering lately?" the younger man stutters quietly, biting his lip.

Hotch frowns. "You want me to be honest?" he says hesitantly.

Reid nods. "Yeah, that'd be…that'd be good."

Hotch sighs. "It's not as good as it used to be, Reid, but that's understandable, given what you've been going through these past few months."

"What about before that?" Reid says with a sense of urgency that startles Hotch. He blinks, frowning ever so slightly.

"It was fine, Reid. Better than fine, really. It was as impeccable as it usually is."

Reid frowns. "When I got shot. Wasn't that careless of me? I was entirely useless to the team during that case. What about when I couldn't run a lap around a track, much less fight off an unsub?"

"Reid, your job performance was excellent both then and now. Now tell me, what is really going on?"

"Are you _sure_?" Reid asks with a desperation that Hotch finds deeply unsettling.

" _Spencer!_ " Hotch almost yells, and curses inwardly when Reid shrinks back into his seat. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Reid says hurriedly, standing to leave. "I should have known this would be a bother to you. Really, I'm the one who should be apologizing, I'm so sorry you've got a meeting and I've just wasted a whole lot of your time to prepare and-"

"Reid, I want to know what's wrong." Hotch's voice is clear and sincere, echoing in the tense silence between them.

"I'm burning out." Reid's reply is tired, defeated. "I'm burning out, and I can't do this job anymore."

Hotch sighs. "Sit back down, Reid." The younger man does so, watching Hotch cautiously. "Reid, do you really think you can't do this job anymore? Because I've seen you doing your job exceptionally well under the circumstances these past few months."

"It's not just my ability…" Reid trails off.

Hotch raises an eyebrow. "Tell me," he pushes, when Reid stays silent.

"I…I used to love coming into work. I used to love being able to _help_ people, being able to feel like I was making a difference. But now…now, all I see when I fall asleep are the countless victims that our team can't save. In reality, I know that I'm not personally responsible, but in my dreams… _I'm_ the one that they scream at from their graves, yelling that it should have been me instead of them." Reid exhales shakily. "And now I just feel dread whenever we get the call. That's how Elle felt, right before she shot and killed a man. I don't want to follow her path. I'd rather be like Alex, and leave on my own terms before I do something I regret." Reid rubs at his eyes, and Hotch suspects the younger man has a headache. "I'm sorry, Hotch."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Reid," Hotch assures him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Are you saying that you'd like to leave the BAU? You can transfer into a different unit, perhaps code breaking or-"

"I want to leave the FBI entirely." Reid refuses to meet Hotch's gaze.

Hotch is momentarily lost for words. "I…are you sure?"

"I don't know," Reid sighs shakily, still picking incessantly at his nails. "That's why I came in here today to ask you."

Hotch sighs, rising from his desk and walking around it so he's standing right beside his agent. "Before you make a decision, I want to make one thing clear. This is _not_ you burning out, Reid. This is you making a decision about your future."

Reid looks at him, unshed tears threatening to spill over. "Do you think it's a good one?"

Hotch stays silent for a good few seconds, before rising to the challenge and wrapping his agent in a tight hug, slightly surprised to find that Reid hugs him back. "It's not my place to make that call, Spencer. You're the only one that can."

Hotch isn't surprised to find Reid's letter of resignation is on his desk the next morning.

o o o

_one year_

Six months after leaving the FBI, Spencer still keeps a picture of his former team in his wallet. At the very back, so he only sees it occasionally. If he looks back at it too often, the bad memories tend to make their way to the surface, and Spencer doesn't want that. He wants memories of the friends that he once had, not the memories of corpses and bloodied basements.

He hadn't remained in contact with the BAU like they'd hoped he would. He emailed Garcia every so often, but he had stopped replying to her after a few months. He'd stayed with Ethan for a while, before getting back in touch with Alex and helping her with her lectures. He doesn't know quite what career he's going to pursue now, but with the money he can make from half an hour in a casino, he's not exactly worried about running out of funds.

He also managed to find Elle, working at a bookstore near his hometown, of all places. He doesn't know if he'll ever properly meet up with her, but he knows that someday when the memories aren't too painful, he'll go visit her.

Sometimes he wonders if Morgan feels guilty about not seeing the change within him. If Spencer knows Morgan as well as he thinks he does, then Morgan is probably real torn up about it, especially since Spencer had also managed to lose complete contact with him. Maybe he's angry at him. Maybe he's forgiven him. Maybe Morgan's already forgotten him. He doesn't know, and he doesn't particularly care. That chapter of his life is over. The BAU will always be a part of him, but it doesn't have to shape the rest of his future.

In front of him, his future awaits.

Behind him, the bodies continue to fester.

o o o

_i choose defeat_

_i walk away_

_and leave this place_

_the same today_

o o o

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is deeply cherished and held tightly to my heart like a shark holds on tightly to its prey.
> 
> Or something. I'm not great with analogies.


End file.
